


Dispatches from the Kingdom of Sorrow

by silentparody



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Background Relationships, Epistolary, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-01 03:41:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20251591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentparody/pseuds/silentparody
Summary: A small collection of items pertaining to the correspondence of ERI-223.





	Dispatches from the Kingdom of Sorrow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nemonus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemonus/gifts).

> Title inspired by the in-game raid achievement "In the Shadow of the Kingdom of Sorrow," which felt fitting.

_Inscribed on a map delivered to the Vanguard shortly after the reappearance of Ana Bray, unsigned:_

Ikora,

We must not neglect Old Russia. Yes, the Hive there are greatly reduced. Yes, Rasputin stirs himself to some paltry effort in his own defense. Yes, the Guardians are very busy plundering the Leviathan with its master's blessing (but you do not need me to warn you of the dangers in that; as they spread their Light, so too may they cast a very long shadow if they are not wary). "Hive in Old Russia?" I'm sure they will say when you tell them of this message. "Hah! Let them freeze there! It worked on Mars, didn't it?"

Yet Mars thawed and released its icy hordes, and the seedships have long since sunk their roots into Russia's snowy earth. Let us not forget that from three weak and desperate sisters were born Oryx, Xivu Arath, Savathûn; that even a thrall bears in its starveling guts a spawn of the great worms. Watch Old Russia. The threat is never truly gone.

I hear that you are on speaking terms with your former mentor again. Does he still play at being a Vex Mind, trying to turn their simulations to his own will and whims? Does he share whatever knowledge he gleans?

_[The following text has been lightly crossed out:]_

What does the Infinite Forest tell him of the Hive's plans? What does it show of the Moon—present, future, past? Am I, Lightless and causal, visible as I

_[End of crossed-out text.]_

When you see our slayers of Crota next, send them to Old Russia with my warning. Perhaps it will be enough.

* * *

_On fine parchment, wrapped around the garnet sliver of an offering to the Oracle:_

My Queen,

Have you ever found it presumptuous of me to make such a claim on you? You've never attempted to claim Earth or the Last City or the Guardians, after all. Some fools mistake this for generosity; greater fools for a sign of weakness. But I hunt for you as I hide and spy for Ikora, and so there is some claim between us, I like to think.

I am where you have sent me: where I last wished to be, delving where I hoped never to delve again, in service of our mutual design. How terribly easy it is, to crawl once more. How unfortunately natural to creak and croak and screech in their tongue, deceiving my way through their tunnels when I cannot live by their logic. It is too familiar, not from a dream but from long, long experience. No amount of time under the sky could cleanse it from me.

_[strikethrough begins]_

I have missed it: as the roots of a tree twist to seek water and its branches twine around obstacles in search of the sun, I [shaped] myself to survive here. Now it is the absence of horror and shadow that pains me, all good things a mockery of the corruption below.

Who would wish this place on another? and still, when I pass a familiar nest or hall, my body moves on while some part of me lingers there, recalling earlier days and longing to say to someone, _here, here I crushed a thrall who grew too bold, here I hid, here I sang a witch's dirges and was not discovered, here I made a knife of my Ghost's bones..._

Is it not proof I am not all spite and Hive magic, however, that I have such desires? That even in my comfortable creeping and crawling, I hunger for Light at my side, not to devour but to share my memories of suffering and a shadowy life, to have as a companion in this foolish reminiscence? Which survivor must I be, wretched in my grudge or hopeful in my mission?

_[strikethrough ends]_

The hunt continues. However you may be reached, I believe my next message will find you with firmer fruit.

—your Hidden friend

* * *

_Scribbled on the flyleaf of a book carelessly abandoned at Master Rahool's stool, later retrieved by VIP #2014:_

I would understand if you refused these messages. What faith could you have in me now, after such confusion? How can you possibly be certain what is a lie, what is a truth, which of reality or falsehood has been spun into the strands of a queen's cunning web? What could I be to you, who has never before faltered in such deceptive mists? Am I Erisia, swimming in the Deep, or the terrible husk of a once-laughing child of the Last City?

<del>Which would make you happy?</del>

You have no answers and no satisfaction, and I have nothing but apology to offer. Such is the way of things in a universe where She reigns. Honesty cannot be trusted if tested even a single time—perhaps not if it is never tested. And still I wish (a dangerous word to use in these times, I know) for that trust, for its rebirth out of the coals of its own corpse. For faith not blindly but freely given, earned, relied upon...

<del>Aiat. Aiat. Aiataiataiataiataiat</del>

* * *

_Copy of a transcription of a document discovered among the personal effects of Wei Ning (the original document presumed lost in the Red War):_

You're really passing up the chance to headbutt another Archon? I'm shocked; I didn't think anything (or anyone) could distract you from your bloodlust! It must be love. You'll have to introduce us once I get back. I would suggest a nice bracing round of Crucible, but I assume you're trying to not scare her off just yet. Drinks with Sai and Pahanin, maybe? It's been too long since we all got together outside of the daily grind. I'll even let your friend choose the bar (please, please, please not that one place in the City, though—Fallen are one thing, cockroaches big enough to take on a dreg are another!).

<del>Honestly, I'm almost a little jealous of</del>

Tell Pahanin absolutely no squid jokes, and try not to spill anything on the new fluffy cape I'll be coming back with. <del>Love,</del>—E.M.

_[Notes included with the copy on the condition of the original document indicate that it was on plain, cheap paper with signs of folding, somewhat wrinkled, and with slight warping of texture, potentially from minor water damage.]_


End file.
